A Daughter's Nightmare
by GirlInTheMirror121
Summary: A deep look into the life of Martha Bessell. T for rape, incest, child abuse, swearing. Moritz/Martha.
1. Intro

**A Daughter's Nightmare**

**Chapter 1: Intro**

**Summery: A look into the life of Martha Bessell. This chapter is based heavily upon "The Dark I Know Well" and the scene that's before it in the show.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spring Awakening.**

**  
Author's Note: I know this is short and not that good; I wrote it during free gym.**

Martha sighed. It had been a long day at school, and now she had to go home. She dreaded the moment her father would come home from work. That meant there was only a matter of time before bedtime. Bedtime was what she hated the most, even more than she hated the beatings. Bedtime was when all her innocence was lost, when the one person she hated most would come to see her.

"Martha, time for bed now," her Mama said. "Put on that new nightgown, the pretty ruffled one your father bought you." She winced. She could see another bruise that had appeared on her arm from the night before. Shit. She'd have to cover that before anyone saw. It also meant that she'd have to wear a long sleeved dress the next day.

She carefully undid her braids (she was only allowed to wear her hair down at bedtime) and laid the ribbons that held them together on her bedside table. She shuddered, seeing the nightgown that was hanging on the back of the door. She knew she had to put it on, or it would be worse tonight. After changing her clothes, she said a quick prayer, blew out the candle, and crawled into bed. How long would it be tonight before he would stumble in, drunk and reeking of beer?

Sure enough, the sound of footsteps approached her door, growing louder by the second. The pounding matched the beat of her heart. She didn't dare scream or cry. That would make it even worse. She knew all she could do was to lie there and breathe. A moment later, he came in. shut the door behind him. "It's just you and me. Child, you're a beauty." Martha tried not to wince as he came around to her bed. Crawled in with her. He pulled down his pants, exposing it. He ordered her to hold it, to touch it. "Oh yeah. Just like that." She knew he would leave the sooner she satisfied him, on a good night. On a bad night…

After he was finished, he hoisted her nightgown up around her waist. "God, it's good, the lovin'. Ain't it good tonight? You ain't seen nothin' yet, gonna treat you right." He plunged right in her. There was no pain, for her had done this many times before. He pushed into her, faster and harder. "Oh yeah. That's my little girl." After several minutes, he finished, and left. Left Martha cold, alone, and helpless. Raped.

The next afternoon, Martha was walking with her friends. "Careful, your braid is coming undone," Thea warned. Martha froze, fixed it. "Isn't it a bother, wearing your hair like that all the time?" Anna asked. "Tomorrow, you shall wear it down!" Wendla cried. "For God's sake, no, Papa beats me enough as it is!" Martha blurted out. Shit. Secrets out. They looked at her with questioning faces.

"Well…what I mean is…it's nothing," she said quickly. "Come on, Martha, tell us," Anna begged. "When I don't do as he likes…Papa yanks out his belt…hits me with the buckle…everything…." She rolled up her sleeve, exposing a fresh bruise from the incident at breakfast.

"My God…Martha! The welts! They're terrible!" Wendla exclaimed. "We must tell someone," Anna said, agreeing. "No. That'd throw me out for good…" "Like Ilse, you mean…" Thea finished for her. "Please, we must…" Anna tried. "No. No. I'd be on the streets for good. No, Anna. I won't tell. I'll just play along. Just for now, okay?" Anna, clearly uncomfortable with this, backed up a few steps.

Martha turned around, leaving her friends behind her, walking towards the place she called home. It would never end. She would always be the victim of Daddy's drunkenness and temper. She would always be in a nightmare.

**Should I continue this? Read/review, please, and let me know if you want to hear more of Martha's story. I might bring Moritz in, and definitely Ilse. **


	2. That Sad, Soulful Sleepyhead

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spring Awakening. Oh, and one of the lines in here is courtesy of my friend, Jacob ("physical scars heal…").**

**Author's Note: Yeah, I'm just gonna continue this now…**

**Chapter 2: That Sad, Soulful Sleepyhead**

On her way home, Martha took her time. She didn't quite want to go home just yet. She didn't want to face her parents. Nor did she want to run into Anna, Thea, or Wendla again. Hopefully, they'd honor her request, and not tell anyone what she divulged to them. Still, they didn't know the whole truth…no, they didn't even know the half of it. They only knew the visible bruises. Physical scars healed. Emotional scars…

She wandered along the stream. She saw someone down by the ravine, but she couldn't quite make out who it was. Melchior Gabor? Hanschen Rilow? One of her classmates? Martha walked down towards the hunched-over figure. They appeared to be crying. She approached with caution; maybe they were hurt. Or maybe they were hurting, deep, down inside. "Hey, there," she said softly to the figure's back, gently touching their shoulder. "Are you okay?"

The figure gasped and jumped; they had not been expecting Martha to be behind them. They turned around. "Martha Bessell? Is that you?" It was Martha's turn to gasp now. "Mortiz Stiefel?" she looked down shyly. He was her secret crush. "What are you doing here?" she mumbled. "Oh…oh, no…reason…" he said, clearly avoiding the subject. She looked up at him. He wasn't meeting her gaze. "You can tell me," she said to him. "No…no, Martha, I can't…I'm sorry." Moritz was quite jittery, looking like he was going to run at any moment. "No. Please, tell me," she said, moving up her sleeve without thinking. He saw the bruise there, and shuddered. "How…how'd you get that?" he sputtered, pointing at it with a shaking finger. She forced herself to look directly in his eyes. "I'll tell you if you tell me."

He looked deep into her eyes. There was clearly a story there, one that he couldn't make out. One that he desperately now wanted to know. "Fine. I'll tell you. You have to promise not to tell a soul, not even Melchior. Not Wendla, not Ilse, not anybody." She took a step back, feeling the complete intensity of his stare. "I promise. Just so as long as you promise not to tell anyone _my_ secret." He looked away for a moment, as if he was looking to make sure that no one else was around. "Promise." Martha smiled. "You first," she told him.

"My father beats me when I don't do as he pleases," Moritz said, all in a rush. Martha gasped, suddenly feeling dizzy. She wasn't alone after all. She was not the only one who felt their daddy's wrath. "What?" she managed to get out. "Yes. He beat me for only bringing home a B in Latin the other night. That's how I got this," he said, revealing a bruise similar to Martha's on his leg. She winced, recognizing that it came from a belt buckle, similar to many of her bruises. "Moritz…I'm so sorry," she said. Moritz nodded. "That's why I was out here," he told her quietly. "So that I wouldn't have to go to the place I call home." Martha nodded and hung her head. Oh, how she knew how that felt! "Now your turn," Moritz reminded her with a gentle smile.

Martha winced. How could she tell him? Then again, he would understand him. He knew the threats. He knew that nobody else could know. He knew the consequences if the story got out. He _knew_. She could tell him, she could! She could! And she could tell him everything. _Everything._

She took a deep breath. "My Papa beats me, too," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. His eyes widened with horror, shock. "Martha…no…no, you're lying!" he yelled, clearly not wanting to believe it. "Yes. That's how I got this bruise," she said, gesturing to her arm. "As well as these," gesturing now to her shoulder, legs, and torso. "Oh, Martha…Martha…why…?" he still didn't want to believe it. She had to make him. "He gets drunk. And he has a wicked temper. For instance, yesterday morning, I spilled but just a drop of coffee…and he…" she trailed off, not wanting to replay the horrible scene in her mind again. "Your arm?" he supplied for her. "Yes."

"And that's not all he does," she said, turning away, not wanting him to see the tears that were quickly forming and rolling down her cheeks. "Martha…Martha? What does he do?" Mortiz asked, concerned. He walked around her so that he was facing her. "What else does your father do to you?" She took a gasping breath. "He rapes me," she managed to choke out, collapsing into sobs. He awkwardly put his arms around her, but his awkwardness quickly turned into comfort. He held her close as sobs racked her tiny, fragile body. He knew that he was holding a soul much more breakable than his own, and he had not thought this to be possible. "Shh, Martha. I've got you. I'll keep you safe." He took her hands. "Come on. I'll walk you home. I promise you that I won't tell a soul. Not a soul, Martha. And I will not leave you." They walked off towards the places they both called "home".

**Yeah, I know Moritz is slightly OOC here. I was thinking, "how am I going to bring him into this?" and I immediately thought of the Word of Your Body scene, with Melchior and Wendla met in the woods, where Wendla had been "laying in the moss by the stream". You can imagine them as whichever actor/actress as Moritz/Martha, but I like to think of them as Blake Bashoff and Sarah Hunt. Reviews are nice.**


	3. Don't Tell, Anna, I'll Be Okay

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Spring Awakening (and Ben Moss).**

**Author's Note: Ok, so here we go! My friend has been bugging me to write more, so here we go! (But I'd like more reviews).**

**Chapter 3: Don't Tell, Anna…I'll Be Okay**

Martha walked into her home 5 minutes late. Her father was waiting by the door. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "You're late." Shit. Here it comes…Martha braced herself. "I'm sorry, Papa. I suppose I dawdled on my way home from school. I shan't do it again." She started backing up slowly, hoping she could make it to the stairs before the beatings started. No such luck tonight. "I thought I instructed you to be on time, Martha," her father said in a slow, low voice. "Yes, Papa, and I'm sorry that I'm late," she tried. "On time means on time, Martha." He reached for his belt. Oh no, oh no, Martha thought. Not the belt, oh, anything but the belt. She braced herself against the wall, waiting for it just to be over already. First came the blows to her legs. Then the harder blows to her torso and arms. Finally, the hardest ones of all to her face, accompanied by some punches and slaps. She could feel her entire body stinging. She crumbled into a heap on the floor. She could feel her father watching her every move, and knew she could not cry, could not make a sound. "Go to your room," he said finally. "No dinner tonight. I hope you've learned how to listen to our instructions."

Martha trudged up to her room. Not only was she covered in bruises, but her body just HURT. She knew that there was no way she could go to school tomorrow. Her body, she could cover, but she couldn't cover her face, which was the worst. It was a bruised, bloody mess. She threw herself onto her bed and began to cry. She cried herself to sleep. Of course, that night, her drunken father came up to "visit" her again. He woke her up, and forced her to pleasure her. It wasn't full penetration that time, but she hated when he did this, too. It was still rape. At least she knew how to pleasure him by now (a "talent" that she was in no way proud of), and she knew that the more he was satisfied, the sooner he'd leave. And sure enough, only 5 minutes later, he left. She rolled over, and cried again. She slept an uncomfortable sleep. No matter what way she lay, something on her body hurt. Stomach? Nope, too painful there. Her sides? Not a chance. Her back? That only reminded her of when her father would…she finally drifted out of pure exhaustion.

The next morning, she went downstairs for breakfast. Her mother shuddered at the sight of her. "Martha, darling…don't you feel well?" she asked her daughter. "I feel fine, Mama," Martha easily lied. "Well…why don't you stay home from school today? I'll write to your teachers to excuse you from classes. Go on, go back to bed. You need your rest." Martha's eyes flew open. "But Mama!" Her mother bristled. "Now, Martha, go back to bed." Martha obeyed. As she lay there, wondering what she'd do all day, there was a knock at the door. She knew it'd be Anna, whom she walked to school with. She heard her mother answer it. "No, no, Anna, Martha isn't feeling well today. She'll be back in school on Monday. Here, take this note to your teachers, explaining what is going on." Anna paused. "But…Martha was feeling fine yesterday!" Frau Bessel stiffened. "She was feeling unwell this morning. Now, Anna, go on. Martha will be just fine." Anna took the note. "Yes, Frau Bessel. Good day, Frau Bessel. Tell Martha that I hope she feels better soon." She turned and walked down the path. She waited till Frau Bessel closed the door, and then walked around to the back of the house. She stood under Martha's window.

"Martha! Martha!" she called. Martha ran to the window. "Anna!" Anna gasped. "Martha! What's wrong with your face?" Martha froze. "Martha…" Anna said softly. "No…" she realized just what had happened. "Anna, don't tell! Please, don't tell!" Martha begged. "But, Martha! Look at you! Oh! The welts! They're terrible! I must tell someone!" Martha's eyes went wide. "Oh, no, Anna! Don't tell anyone! I'll be fine, I promise!" Please…please, don't tell!" Anna wasn't buying it. "Martha…" Martha clasped her hands. "Promise me you won't tell anyone. PROMISE ME, ANNA." Anna took a step back, uncomfortable. "I…I promise, Martha. I won't tell a soul." Martha sighed. "Thank you, Anna. Tell Thea and Wendla that I said hello." Anna sighed. "I shall. Goodbye, Martha". "Goodbye, Anna." Martha closed her window, and prayed to God that Anna would keep her promise.

On her way to school, Anna read the note that Frau Bessel had written. It claimed that Martha had been feeling "unwell". Anna knew this to be a lie. She also knew that Frau Bessel knew exactly what went on in that house, that she knew exactly what happened to Martha, and yet she did nothing about it. She gave the note to her teachers, obediently, and paused at the desk. "Yes, Anna? Did you want to tell me something?" the teacher asked. "Martha…" she began. "What about Martha?" the teacher asked. "She…she…" Anna stuttered. "Yes, what is it?" the teacher asked, concerned. "She will be back on Monday," Anna whispered, turning and walking back to her desk. She needed to tell, she needed to tell _someone_ before something horrible happened to Martha.

**I'm not thrilled with the way this chapter came out, but I wanted to bring Anna into this. After all, in the musical version, she's the only one who wants to tell someone. She wants to get help for Martha, but Martha won't let her. This causes Anna to get very conflicted. But we all know that, right? **

**So does Anna keep her promise? Does anything happen between Moritz and Martha? Read and review to find out!**


	4. Save Me, Moritz

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spring Awakening.**

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! Lots of school projects and assignments! Here we go with Chapter 4. Let me know if it's any good.**

**Chapter 4: Save Me, Moritz**

As Martha's Mama had promised Anna, Martha was back in school on Monday. Most of the bruises and cuts had either faded or healed, but some were still visible. Martha was worried that her teachers might question them, but they never had questioned Martha's bruises before.

"How are you feeling, Martha?" Wendla asked.

"Oh, I feel much better now," Martha said, stealing a glance over at Anna. "Stomach bug, but nothing too bad."

"Oh, that's good," Wendla said. Martha looked at her friend; was she buying it? But Wendla had already turned to chat with Thea. Martha shifted her gaze to Anna. Anna looked back. She knew exactly why Martha had been out, but she hadn't been able to tell Wendla or Thea. She'd made a promise, after all.

Martha looked out the window. She could see the boys running around outside before their lessons. She saw Melchior writing furiously in a journal of some sort. She saw Hanschen, Otto, Georg, and Ernst talking in a huddle. She gazed around; where was he? Then, she spotted him. Moritz came running over to the group of boys, hair uncombed, clothes wrinkled. Oh, he looked so cute! Martha sighed contentedly.

"Ooooh, is Melchi Gabor out there again?" Thea asked excitedly. She ran over to the window. "There he is! He's rather handsome!" she exclaimed.

"So wonderful," Wendla agreed, nodding.

"Yes," Anna chimed in.

"But not so wonderful as that sad, soulful sleepyhead, Moritz Stiefel," Martha whispered to herself. Thea overheard her.

"MORITZ STIEFEL?! How can you even COMPARE them?! Melchi Gabor…he's such a RADICAL!" she said excitedly. She motioned for Anna, Wendla, and Martha to come closer. "You know what the whisper is? He doesn't believe in anything. Not in God, not in Heaven, not in a single thing in this world." Anna, Wendla, and Thea sighed in rapture. Martha sighed in discontent.

After the school day was out, Martha took a walk along the stream. It was a place that she could go just to relax, to forget about everything. She gathered her skirts up, and settled down in the soft moss. Suddenly, she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She jumped.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, Martha," came the soft voice. Moritz! Martha's heart skipped a beat.

"That's quite alright," she said, reassuring him.

"So…what are you doing here?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I like to come here to escape," she replied, finally turning her face to him. He gasped.

"Martha! What's happened to your face?"

She flinched. "Oh…I…" she began. She couldn't get the words out. The memories of what happened came back, and she started to shake.

"Your Papa?" Moritz whispered. Martha nodded, unable to speak. Moritz sat down next to her, and awkwardly took her hand.

"It's okay, Martha. I was late to school this morning because of my Papa." He raised his sleeve to expose a large bruise. Martha flinched again.

"Oh. Sorry," Moritz replied quickly, seeing how Martha had reacted. "So…why'd he…I mean….you don't have to answer that if you don't want to," he rushed on.

"Because I was 5 minutes late getting home the other night," Martha replied.

"The day that we…" Moritz started. Martha nodded. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Martha! I…I shouldn't have kept you so!" Martha stopped him.

"It's okay, Moritz. I didn't mind spending time with you." She smiled softly.

"I didn't mind spending time with you, either," Moritz replied, returning her smile. He held her hand with more confidence. Martha blushed, looking away.

She began to cry softly. Moritz looked at her in alarm. "What's wrong, Martha?"

"I don't deserve…this. I don't deserve to have you care for me!" she burst out.

"Oh…oh, Martha. Martha, yes, you do! You more than anyone!" he said.

"No. No, I do not. What man is going to want me? Papa says that I'm ugly, that because I am not a virgin, no man is going to want me. He says that I'm a horrible brat who deserves all the punishments that she can get. He…he…he wishes that I didn't exist."

Moritz looked at her with the utmost concern. "Martha, that isn't true! You're such a nice girl, so kind and considerate. And I think that you're beautiful." This last sentence was whispered softly.

Martha looked up at him, her brown eyes filled with tears. "Really, Moritz?"

"Yes. Yes, yes, Martha. You're very, very pretty. You are beautiful."

"Save me, Moritz. Please, save me," she whispered as she buried her face into his chest. He brought her close, and raised her chin, wiping away the tears.

"I will, Martha. I will try my hardest to save you, to protect you. I love you," he said, kissing her gently.

"I love you, too, Moritz."

"Come, let me walk you home," he said, taking her hand once more. They walked off towards Martha's house, and Martha felt stronger than she ever had before.

**Okay, so this didn't end so well. I've decided that, even though there's dialogue from My Junk, this takes place somewhat before the play. Moritz isn't plagued by the dreams yet, and he isn't suicidal yet. That'll come eventually. I want him to live for now, so that he can help Martha. Ilse will eventually come into play as well, and I'll try to include Thea and Wendla more, if you want. Read and review!**


	5. Moritz Takes A Stand

**Disclaimer: Still don't own SA. (Wish I did)**

**Author's Note: Thanks to Chalcedony Rivers! She helped me get over my writer's block for this story. (Plus, we had a good 'ol time fangirling!) **

**Chapter 5: Moritz Takes a Stand**

The next day, Moritz went down to the stream, where he would meet Martha, as planned. She came running up to her, tears flowing down her face. Moritz didn't even have to know what was wrong; he just _knew._

He brought her close to her, wordlessly, and held her there. "Shh. Martha, it'll be okay. It'll be okay. I'm here now. It'll be okay."

She sobbed harder. He just continued to hold her, stroking her hair gently. Once she calmed down, she pulled away. He put his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Martha, I want to do something about this. Now."

She looked at him, terror in her eyes. "No. No, Moritz. Don't!" her voice rising in fear with each word.

"I hate seeing you like this, in pain! I hate what he does to you! Please, let me do something! You wouldn't let Anna do anything, nor Thea, nor Wendla. Let me do this. Let me save you, you have to. Please, Martha. Please."

"Moritz…you can't! You've seen what he's done to me, who knows what he'd do to you! Papa'll hurt anyone if he's cross enough!"

"Martha. I love you. And I want to save you. I want to make sure that you're safe from harm. Please…let me just talk to him."

Martha looked at him for a long time, fear still in her eyes. She kissed him suddenly, quickly, gently. "Okay," she finally whispered. "Okay."

Moritz walked Martha back to her house. Her Mama, working in the garden, saw them coming up the road, hand-in-hand.

"Why, hello there, Moritz. I saw your mother today in the market. How are you doing?" Frau Bessell asked.

"I'm well, thank you, Frau Bessell," Moritz answered politely. "I was just walking Martha home."

"That's very nice of you," Frau Bessell said, after a pause. "Thank you, Moritz."

"It was no trouble, Frau Bessell," Moritz replied.

"Martha, go inside and wash up for dinner," Frau Bessell said unexpectedly.

Martha lowered her head. "Yes, Mama. Goodbye, Moritz." She let go of his hand slowly, not wanting to leave the comfort that she found there.

"Well, good-day to you, Moritz," Frau Bessell said, turning to leave.

"Frau Bessell?"

She paused. "Yes, Moritz?"

"I was wondering if I could talk to Herr Bessell for a moment, please."

A longer paused. "Yes. Go on inside. He's in the den."

Moritz walked inside hesitantly. He saw Herr Bessell sitting in a chair, reading the evening paper. He entered the room. He could see Martha standing at the top of the stairs, looking at him, wishing him luck with her eyes.

"Herr Bessell?" Moritz asked.

"Well, if it isn't Moritz Stiefel. I saw your father at the bar last night. What brings you here?"

Moritz froze. How could this be the man that abused his Martha? How could this be the man who terrorized her very dreams? Who made her cry? Who made her afraid to even breathe?

"I was wondering if I may talk to you about something, Sir," he said, stuttering a bit.

"Yes? Well, sit down, Moritz."

Moritz sat carefully on the other chair in the room. "Herr Bessell…I just wanted to let you know…that I'm…dating…your daughter."

Herr Bessell's face immediately stormed. "What did you say?" he asked in a low, growling voice, getting to his feet.

Moritz now stood. "I'm dating Martha," he said, looking directly into Herr Bessell's face. Before he knew what was happening, a hand struck him across the face. He gasped.

"You stay away from my daughter," Herr Bessell growled.

Moritz straightened up, defiant. "No. I love her. I will not leave her, not ever."

Herr Bessell stuck him, over and over. Still, Moritz stood strong.

Herr Bessell continued to punch, slap, and kick Moritz. After several minutes, he grabbed Moritz by his shirt collar. "Get out of my house. And stay away from Martha." He threw Moritz on the floor. Moritz stood up.

"I know what you do to her. And by God, I will save Martha from this Hell that you have her in. Even if it means I have to die to save her."

From upstairs, Martha gasped. _He would die for me?_

Moritz turned wordlessly, and walked out the door. He was determined, more than ever, to save his beautiful, wonderful Martha. _He would save her._

**Again, thanks to Chalcedony Rivers! She gave me the idea of Moritz going to confront Herr Bessell about what he did to Martha. And yes, I will bring Ilse into this! **


	6. Ilse? Is That You?

**Disclaimer: Don't own SA or any of its characters.**

**Author's Note: Sorry this is a bit late! **_**Tale of Two Cities **_**is taking its toll on me, haha. Here's the next chapter, then!**

**Chapter 6: Ilse? Is That You?**

Martha was wandering down where the winds sigh. She lay down in the open meadow, spreading her arms out. She watched the clouds go by, one by one, shape by shape, minute by minute. She tried not to think about the previous night's events, but all she could hear was Mortiz's voice in her head.

"_I know what you do to her. And by God, I will save Martha from this Hell that you have her in. Even if it means I have to die to save her."_

Even if I have to die to save her. If I have to die to save her. Die to save her. Die to save her. The words rang through her mind like a haunting melody that she could not get rid of, like the footsteps that approached her door, like the blackness she saw when she closed her eyes.

She sat up slowly and looked around. In the distance, she could see a figure bending down in the grass. Martha stood up, and walked towards it. On closer look, she could see that it was a girl, with long, wavy brown hair. She was wearing a green jumper of sorts, and she was gathering flowers. Purple summer, Martha saw, her favorite flower. She loved their blue-purple color, their sweet smell, their calming presence.

"Excuse me," Martha said to the girl.

"Yes?" the girl answered, turning around. Martha gasped; she recognized that face.

"Ilse? Ilse Neumann? Is that you?"

The girl smiled sweetly. "Martha Bessell, at long last!" She threw her arms around Martha joyously. Martha stumbled backwards, caught off-guard. Ilse stepped back and looked Martha up-and-down.

"Martha, it's been so long! How are you doing? I'm doing just fine, I suppose, just perfectly fine. Of course, I've been kicked out of the house, but I deserved that anyway. I don't want to live with them, anyhow. Bah! So how is Melchior Gabor? Are you still friends with Wendla Bergmann? Oh, and how about Moritz Stiefel?! How is he? Skittish as always? Oh, I do hope he's all-right. Oh, do forgive me for rambling on so, Martha. Just feel free to stop me the next time I do it!"

Martha stood there, not sure what to say. It had been years since she'd seen Ilse last. A million questions were running through her head. The most prominent one, however, was _what happened to you_?

"Well…" Martha started. "I'm so very glad to see you, Ilse. Melchior is fine, I suppose. I haven't talked to him in awhile. Yes, I'm still friends with Wendla. Do you remember Anna and Thea? I hang out with them as well. And as for Moritz…" she trailed off, unsure on how to tell this to Ilse, as she didn't really believe it herself.

"Yes?" Ilse prompted her. "Is he all-right?"

"Yes," Martha whispered. "He's just fine."

"Martha, you're not telling me the whole truth. What's the deal with you and Moritz?"

"Can I trust you, Ilse?"

Ilse was taken aback. "Of course!" She looked slightly offended.

"Oh, Ilse, I do love him so. I love him, love him."

Ilse gasped for joy. "Oh, Martha! How wonderful!" She lowered her voice. "Does he return the feelings?"

"Yes," Martha whispered. "Yes, he does."

Ilse grinned from ear-to-ear. "Hurrah! I'm so very glad for you, Martha. I always knew he'd find someone special. I…why, Martha, why are you crying?"

"Papa," Martha whispered. "Papa."

Ilse glowered. "Martha, you tell me right now what he's done to you!"

Martha looked at her, stunned. "Whatever do you mean, Ilse?"

Ilse rolled her eyes. "I know when a daughter or son is being abused, Martha. I've been through it. Remember when I'd show up for school with bruises all over? And I said that I 'had an accident'? Well, do you?" When Martha nodded, Ilse continued. "It was all Papa. Raped, beaten, oh, so many things.

Now tell me, Martha, does your Papa do that to you? Does he?"

"Yes."

Ilse scowled. "I knew it."

Martha began to sob again, something she'd been doing a lot lately. Ilse hugged her old friend tightly. She took her firmly by the shoulders. "Martha, this will stop NOW. We must get you to safety. If my Papa did all that to me, oh, I shudder and fear for what yours will do to you! I nearly lost my life!"

She paused, thinking. "Come. Come with me."

Martha jerked away from Ilse's grip. "What?!"

"Come with me. To Priapia, the Artist's Colony. That is where I'm on my way to. We shall be safe there; we shall start our lives anew!"

"No…I can't…Moritz! His Papa beats him, too! I…I can't just leave him!"

A look of concern passed over Ilse's face. "Moritz, too? Oh, dear. He will come as well, then! The three of us, we shall go to Priapia, and play pirates together all day, singing songs and telling stories!

So are you in or out?"

Martha paused. She thought about this. Escape? Escape from the beatings? From her family, who did not love her? With her love, her Moritz, and Ilse?

Martha didn't have to think twice about this.

She had already made her choice.

She stood up strong and tall.

"Yes."

**Dun dun dun! Will Moritz go with them? Will they be able to escape unseen? You'll just have to wait and see! **


	7. Please Don't Leave

**A/N: Oh, loyal readers! I'm so incredibly sorry for not having updated this in months. I lost my drive for writing this, and it wasn't until I got a review last night from **_**Princesshannah12345 **_**saying that "this is the best story ever!" that inspired me to keep going with this one. Thanks so much, **_**Princesshannah12345!**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spring Awakening.**

**Chapter 7: Please Don't Leave**

**~~Moritz Point of View~~**

** I watched as she approached our spot by the stream. God, she looked so beautiful with her hair in two braids and a brown dress that matched her beautiful brown eyes. She ran up to me with a smile that seemed like it would split her face in two. It was the most wonderful sight I had ever seen. **

** "Moritz!" she cried, flinging her arms around my neck.**

** "Martha, what's happened?"**

** "You remember Ilse Neumann?" she asked. I paused. I hadn't seen Ilse in so long. I used to play Pirates with her, Melchior, and Wendla Bergmann. Oh, how I missed those days! Ilse was undoubtedly the most free-spirited of us all, and I admired her for that. I smiled. "Yes, I remember her," I told Martha.**

** "Well, I've just run into her, and she's offered for me—and for you, Moritz, you too—to come to Priapia with her!"**

** "Priapia? The artist's colony?!" I gasped in horror.**

** "Yes, Moritz. We could stay with Ilse, and some other people, and make a living of our own. We could…we could…we could be **_**free**_**."**

** "Martha, are you out of your mind? PRIAPIA? We could get killed!"**

** "But if I stay," she said slowly. "My Papa could kill me anyway". **

** I knew this was true. I'd been up against Herr Bessell before, and he was no picnic. I knew that what he did to me, he could do tenfold back to Martha, and especially now that he knew that we were involved. He'd made it quite clear that if I were to even be seen with his daughter, he'd kill me, and then go back for Martha. **

** Still, I couldn't just let her go like that—and Ilse! I couldn't just let Ilse suffer from such a dark and sure fate. "Martha," I began. "I can't let you go. You **_**and**_** Ilse."**

** "Moritz, I have to! And so do you! You and I can be together without worrying about either of our Papas! Without worrying that we'll get caught together! You know the consequences if they catch us. I love you, Moritz, and I'm not about to let you go. Please, please, come with us!"**

** "And what about Ilse? Why is she running in the first place?"**

** "Let's just say she's like us…"**

** I stood there stunned. Ilse too felt the fury of her Papa? My free- spirited childhood playmate suffered the same fate as my darling Martha? No; it couldn't be. Ilse never showed it. She was too cheerful and full of life to have been abused. Surely one of us would have noticed that something was wrong. How could we have been so blind?**

** I turned back to Martha. "Ilse will get hurt. I know her, Martha. She and I were best friends in our childhood. I know that she's tough, but I also know that she's vulnerable. I can't count the times that I've held her while she's cried. I can't count the remarkable times we had hiding in our wigwam, with Melchior and Ilse. Of course, this was all before I even knew you. Still, I can't let Ilse get hurt, too."**

** Martha had slowly been turning to stone. "Well, if you won't come with us, we'll just go without you!"**

** "Martha, no. Don't leave. Please, don't leave!" I pleaded.**

** "I have to, Moritz. I HAVE to. Ilse and I both."**

** "It doesn't have to be this way, Martha. We can just get by until we come of age, and then we can be free to get away from here and marry and have children…we'll raise our children to be free. We'll teach them right from wrong, and we'll never lay a hand on them. We'll give them everything we never had and more. Please, Martha. Give me a chance!"**

** "I can't, Moritz. I love you, but I can't stay here. I really can't. I have to go. I'll come back for you, I promise."**

** "No, Martha. You have to promise that you'll stay right here."**

** She didn't say anything. She just stared off into the distance blankly.**

** "Promise me," I said again. Still no response. I grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look at me. "PROMISE ME," I said firmly.**

** "I can't promise you anything," she whispered fiercely. **

** I let go of her. "Fine, Martha. Go ahead, then! Go ahead and put your life at risk! Just don't come crying back to me when your life is falling apart and there's no one who can fix it but me. I love you. I want to protect you. But obviously you won't let me." I stormed off, tears in my eyes, and left her standing there like a rock.**

** I got to a path in the woods, leaned against the trees, and started shaking. What had I done? I didn't mean anything I'd said to her, except that I love her. I do love her, like I've never loved anyone. And I do want to protect her from the rest of the evils in the world. But how can I do that when she won't let me? I sat and cried and cried. My beautiful, wonderful Martha. My dearest childhood friend, Ilse. What would become of them? **

** Could I save them before it was too late? **

**~~So this was fun to write. It's interesting to get into the other character's heads. I may do an Ilse POV chapter eventually, just because she would be an absolute pleasure to write as. Please read and review!**


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